


Plastic

by Moit



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-15 01:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11220447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: Chris trailed his fingers over the baubles atop the glass counter.“I’m sorry, hon, but your card declined.”Without missing a beat, he cocked his head to the side and said, “Papà.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [【授權翻譯】Plastic（By Moit）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298303) by [aLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aLady/pseuds/aLady). 



> Okay, first of all, thank you so much to everyone on Tumblr who cheered this thing along when it was still like 3 paragraphs. I've expanded it (and there will be more!) so please just bear with me. 
> 
> Italian translations are at the end. 
> 
> And tags? I didn't really know how to tag this, so let me know if you think I should add something.
> 
> Enjoy!!

Chris trailed his fingers over the baubles atop the glass counter. 

“I’m sorry, hon, but your card declined.” 

Without missing a beat, he cocked his head to the side and said, “Papà.” 

A tall, handsome man appeared at his side, card in hand. He said nothing, but his dark eyes dared the clerk to decline _this_ one. 

Chris lifted his bag off the counter. With a proprietary hand against the small of his back, the man led him outside. 

Against the glare of the sunshine, Zach slipped a pair of Ray Bans over his eyes. “What’s wrong with your card?” He held out his hand for the offending piece of plastic. 

“I think I hit my limit.” 

“Well, then. We’ll have to get you a new one, won’t we?” Zach’s wolfish smile was sharp. 

*

Ankles clasped in each hand, Chris held his legs in the air as he was fucked.

Zach finished and smacked his ass. “Get up and get dressed. We’re leaving soon.” 

Something landed on his chest. Chris looked down to find an American Express Platinum card. “Thank you, Papà.” 

*

Chris’s job was easy enough: keep your mouth shut, look pretty, and do as you’re told. Nobody outlined the rules in so many words, but when Zach handed over the first credit card, he said, “I expect obedience.” 

With a smile, Chris replied, “Si, Papà.” 

Today was an easy day. Papà was gone for a few hours on “business,” leaving Chris to lounge by the pool. As always, Idris stood nearby to ensure Chris’s “needs” were met. 

Chris was just starting to doze when Idris received a phone call. 

“Christopher, Mr. Quinto is on his way home. He would like you dressed and ready to go when he gets here.” 

The shower lasted long enough to wash the oil from his skin, and Chris kept his hair dry. Papà hated when his hair was wet. He slid into a shirt that felt butter-smooth on his skin, added some product to his skin, and jogged back downstairs. 

“Bambino, sembra delizioso.” Zach kissed both of Chris’s cheeks and gave him an approving once-over. “Unfortunately, your day in the sun had to be cut short. Business, you know.” 

 

In the car, Zach spread his legs and unbuckled his belt. It was all the directive Chris needed. He knelt in the space between Zach’s legs and put his mouth to work. While he sucked, he heard Zach tapping on his phone. A moment later, he began to speak. 

“I’m on my way. … Yes. … Yes. … No, that’s why I’m coming … no, I told you—“

Zach fell silent as the person on the other end of the line began reciting what seemed like a monologue. 

“ _No,_ ” Zach said again. “That’s what I’m telling you, Mario, listen.” He carded his free hand through Chris’s hair the way one might pet a dog. “That’s not good enough. Te l’ho detto—“ His hand tightened in Chris’s hair as he came. All the while, he kept up his diatribe entirely in Italian. 

Chris sucked until Zach had nothing more to give. Only when the heel of a hand pushed at his forehead did Chris sit back on his heels. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket to clean Zach up. He used the same handkerchief to wipe at the corners of his own mouth. 

“No. We will sort this out when I get there.” Zach ended the call. He looked at Chris and wiped his hand on the fabric of his trousers. “Don’t ever put that fucking _merda_ in your hair again.” 

*

Inside the club, Chris could hardly hear himself think over the thumping bass. Immediately, one of the scantily-clad waitresses led Zach and several of his associates to a VIP lounge on the balcony. Chris’s eyes skipped over the girl’s heaving breasts, which nearly popped out of the corset top she wore. 

Zach caught him staring and snapped his fingers. “Occhi.” 

Chris forced his gaze to the floor where it couldn’t get him in any more trouble. 

Once they were seated, Zach wrapped his fingers around the inside of Chris’s thigh, close enough to his dick for Chris to feel the heat of his hand, and tight enough that Chris wouldn’t forget it was there. 

A different server—a boy this time—brought them a round of shots. Chris was given water. 

Zach raised his glass, prompting the others to do the same. “Cento di questi giorni.” As one, they drank.

Chris stared silently into his glass. 

Another man appeared at the table. He and Zach shook hands and kissed each other on both cheeks. 

“Mi paisano, how’s business, huh? How are you?” 

‘How’s business?’ Chris knew, was Zach’s way of asking why profits were down. He’d seen this happen a couple times before. Zach never feared shuttering a building that was underperforming.

“Business is, eh, you know.” The man gestured at the empty air around them. 

“Listen …” Zach lapsed into rapid-fire Italian too quick for Chris to understand. 

Chris fiddled with the straw in his water and wondered, not for the first time, why Zach bothered bringing him on “errands” like this. He’d deduced the decision came from the sexual release Chris gave him on the drive as well as the muscle Zach flexed by showing off his kept boy. 

“You have one week,” Zach said in English, pulling Chris out of his reverie. 

“Ma—“

“One week. Now, get out of my face before I change my mind.” 

The man glanced at Chris and then hurried from the booth. 

*

Rolling onto his side, Chris allowed the sheets to pool against his belly. He propped his head on one hand. “Are you sure you have to go tonight? We’ve hardly spent any time together today.” 

Zach met his gaze in the mirror as he knotted his tie. “I already told you she’s in town tonight. You know how it goes. I’ll go back to the house, fuck her, and she’ll be on a plane back to Italy. You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Fully dressed, he turned around. “Don’t pout. I bought you something.” 

Chris perked up as Zach approached the bed with a blue Tiffany box tied with a bow. He opened it to find a silver chainlink bracelet. “Oh, Papà.” 

With gentle hands, Zach lifted the bracelet out of the box and clasped it around Chris’s wrist. He cupped Chris’s jaw and kissed him. As he pulled away, he rubbed his thumb over Chris’s bottom lip. “Who loves you, Christopher?” 

“You do, Papà.” 

*

But Papà wasn’t back the next morning. When he still wasn’t home by lunchtime, Chris opted to entertain himself by going shopping under the cover of Idris’s ever-watchful eye. 

“What do you think, Idris? Will Papà like this one?” Chris turned to give the man a full view of the way the fabric clung to his narrow hips. 

As always, Idris gave him the same response. “It’s very nice, Sir.” 

“Papà pays you to say that.” 

Wrinkling his nose, Chris slid the curtain shut. As he wiggled out of the bathing suit, his phone rang. 

“Ciao, Papà.” Even standing naked in a dressing room, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 

“Christopher. Where are you?”

“Shopping,” he drawled. “I’m buying a new bathing suit.” He looked over his shoulder to see his ass in the mirror. He really needed to spend some time tanning it. 

“How soon can you be home?” 

Warmth spread through Chris’s belly. He loved it when Papà referred to the house as ‘home.’ “Probably inside of 30 minutes.” 

“Make it 20. And wear that bathing suit.” 

“You got it, Papà.” 

Smiling to himself, Chris put the phone away and squeezed back into the bathing suit. He pulled his jeans up and let the tag hang over his waistband. 

Idris stood stoic as ever when Chris slid the curtain open. “Papà ci vuole a casa.” 

“I heard.” 

Chris added two bathing suits to the stack of clothing already at the register. “And this, too.” Impishly, he ripped the tag off the briefs he still wore and handed it to the girl behind the counter. “Please try to hurry,” he added as he held out his Platinum card, “Papà is waiting for us.” 

The girl smiled and worked quickly. 

*

Bags in hand, Chris pranced into the house. “Papà, sono a casa!”

From the living room, Zach said, “Upstairs, Christopher. I’ll be with you shortly.” 

Chris started into the living room, but he was stopped by a large hand on his chest. 

“Upstairs,” the big man said. 

Deciding the better option was to listen, Chris turned around. 

 

Knowing Zach would want to see them, he laid his purchases out on the bed. He was trying to decide whether or not to take off his jeans when Zach came into the room. 

“Papà! I was just—“ 

Zach silenced him with a harsh kiss. He licked at Chris’s mouth like he was trying to consume him. “Are you wearing that new swimsuit I bought you?” Zach’s fingers crawled under the waistband of Chris’s jeans to cup his ass. 

“Si, Papà, I wanted to show you what I bought.” 

A noncommittal noise was Zach’s only reply. He spun Chris around by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed. Chris’s jeans were tugged to his ankles, and Zach’s hot breath ghosted over Chris’s ass. “This is the new one?” 

“Si, Papà.” Chris fisted the bedclothes beneath him. 

“Mmm.” Zach traced the seam around Chris’s thigh to where his cock and balls were tucked tightly into the fabric. “All snug for me. I made a good purchase.” Hooking his fingers into the waistband, Zach lowered the briefs just enough to tuck them under the meat of Chris’s ass. “Avere la botte piena e la moglie ubriaca.” 

“I have no idea what you just said, but yes.” 

Zach’s reply disappeared into the crack of Chris’s ass. His beard tickled a bit, but the feeling of the hot, slick tongue against his hole was enough to make Chris rise onto his bare toes in an effort to get _more_. Zach’s hands wrapped around his hips to hold him steady. One of Chris’s hands moved towards his crotch, but Zach caught him by the wrist. 

“No,” he said. “Cum like this or not at all.” 

Chris whined. Papà often made sex a challenge, the way he saw many aspects of his life. 

It took him longer than usual, but Chris came into his new swimsuit using nothing other than Zach’s tongue. Zach pulled the fabric back up and patted Chris’s ass. 

“She found out about you.” 

“What?” Still coming down from his orgasm, Chris dropped his upper half to the bed. 

“My wife.” Zach began to unbuckle his belt. “She found out about you, and she’s given me an ultimatum: you or her.” 

As he maneuvered Chris onto his back, Zach said nothing else, and Chris was too afraid to ask. But while Zach fucked him, a thousand questions ran through his mind. 

_Why did Papà tell me this? How did she find out? Is this the end? Is this Papà’s way of saying goodbye?_

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian translations (thank you Google!)
> 
> Bambino, sembra delizioso. Baby, you smell delicious
> 
> Te l’ho detto I told you
> 
> merda shit
> 
> occhi eyes
> 
> Mi paisano my bro
> 
> Papà ci vuole a casa Daddy wants us home
> 
> Papà, sono a casa Daddy, I'm home
> 
> Avere la botte piena e la moglie ubriaca Italian equivalent of "have my cake and eat it too"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out how Chris started his arrangement with Papà and things get complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope you guys are still enjoying this. I can't imagine that it will be more than five chapters, but we'll see. :))

For a Thursday night, the club managed to pack in an impressive amount of patrons. The bass thumped, the vodka flowed, and on various stages throughout the room, the dancers grinded and thrusted to the beat.

Despite being his second week on the job, Chris was getting a feel for the movements. Smiling and gyrating seemed to come second nature to him, and as long as he appeared to be enjoying himself, the men stuffed handfuls of cash into his tiny shorts. 

But only an hour into his shift, the club manager appeared at the base of Chris’s platform. He pulled his fingers back to tell the dancer he was needed. 

Anxiety bubbling in his chest, Chris climbed down from his perch. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. It was the only thing standing between him and starvation. He followed his boss to a back office he had never seen before. His palms grew sweaty. 

Inside an office appointed more richly than the manager’s sat a bearded Italian man. The door shut, and Chris was left alone with him. 

“Christopher. Have a seat.” 

Extremely conscious that he was covered in sweat and glitter, Chris perched delicately on the edge of the leather chair. 

“I’m Mr. Quinto. I’m the owner of this establishment.” 

Oh, fuck. 

Chris was fucked. 

He must have really fucked up. 

His heart began to pound as his mind raced to figure out what he’d done wrong. Had he pocketed too many of his tips? Not smiled enough? Did that guy pay for the shot he gave him? Was he _allowed_ to take shots on the clock? 

“I have a proposition for you, Christopher.” Mr. Quinto leaned forward. “I’ve seen you dancing several times. You’re very beautiful.” 

Blushing down to his nipples, Chris ducked his head. People always told him he looked good. Objectively, he could see it: he had flat abs and a nice ass. But some part of him always felt like the nerdy little kid with glasses he used to be. 

“Thank you, Sir. That’s very kind of you. I love my job.” While the last part wasn’t entirely true, Chris would do anything to avoid getting fired right now.

“Do you?” Mr. Quinto’s dark eyebrows drew low over his eyes. 

“Yes, Sir. Very much,” Chris said vehemently. At this point, he would have gotten down on his knees to show Mr. Quinto how much he loved this job. He couldn’t go back to the streets—begging for food, trying to squeeze his way into a shelter for the night. At least now he had a shithole apartment he shared with 3 other dancers. 

Mr. Quinto cocked his head to the side like a predator surveying its prey. “Would you like to hear my proposition?”

Chris nodded. It didn’t seem prudent to ignore the boss. 

“Do you understand what the word _Papà_ means in Italian?”

*

Gal Gadot-Quinto was a formidable woman. She came from a powerful Israeli family, and her marriage to Zach had been arranged to secure an alliance between their families. The marriage, albeit amicable, was loveless, and to this point, childless, as well. Gal stayed at the family home in Italy, close enough to see her own family, while Zach spent the majority of his time on the west coast of the United States. Once a month or so, Gal would fly to America so she and her husband could see to spousal duties. 

Dressed to kill in red heels, Gal looked like the physical manifestation of wrath. “Zachary, no, ant la tastatie—”

“English, per favore, amore, we are in America.” 

Gal’s heels clicked across the floor as she paced like a caged tiger. “I cannot believe you would do this to me!” 

“Gal. Honey. I am not in love with you. Our marriage was arranged out of convenience. Do you really mean to tell me that you don’t have someone warming your bed back in Italy?” 

“ _La_. In my culture, when you marry, that means you pledge yourself to _one_ person. It does not matter how you feel after you take vows, and I pledged my _life_ to you. I took name of your _family_!”

“And you and your family have benefitted greatly from it. I’m not asking you for a divorce, Gal.” 

“Well, maybe that is what I want. I deserve man who loves me.” 

“Then go find one. I’m not stopping you. In fact, I would encourage it.” 

“I will not stoop to your level.” 

“Then what do you want from me?” Zach spread his arms wide. “You signed a prenup, Gal. If you walk, you get nothing.” 

“You have sabotaged our marriage bed. That dissolves contract.” 

“You’ll have to prove it, first. We never have sex, we have no children. Who’s to say you didn’t freeze me out of the bed first?” 

“All the proof I need is in that little piece of fuck-meat upstairs,” Gal hissed.

“You don’t even know his name.” 

“You have no idea what I am capable of.”

“Nor you I.” 

They stared at each other for another moment. 

“Let me walk you out,” Zach said after a beat. 

Gal’s heels clicked across the floor. “I will call.” 

“Addio.” The door shut behind her louder than necessary. 

At the top of the staircase, Chris put his head in his hands. He’d heard the whole exchange. He might as well start packing his bags and see if he could get his old job back at the club. 

Footsteps on the stairs made Chris raise his eyes. 

Face impassive, Zach approached him slowly. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, bambino.” 

Before Zach even caught up to him, Chris began to cry.

“Amore.” 

“Please don’t call me that.” 

“Why are you crying? I’ve never lied to you.” 

Unable to talk past the lump in his throat, Chris shook his head. Zach took him by the wrist and tugged him to his feet. 

“Listen to me: Nothing has changed. She does not run my life. No more tears, yeah?”

Sniffing, Chris nodded. 

Zach thumbed the tears out of his eyes before giving him a kiss. 

*

Chris could tell Papà was trying to smooth the waves between them by taking Chris out for several nice dinners. Zach brought him fresh flowers every day and left little trinkets like diamond cufflinks and expensive chocolates on the pillow. As much as he appreciated it, Chris knew Zach’s wife was still in town. Papà hadn’t spent the night at _home_ in a week, and when he did come home, he headed straight for the shower. Without Zach’s presence, Chris began to lose interest in the objects he surrounded himself with. 

Zach wasn’t blind to the change in Chris’s demeanor. He suggested, rather insistently, that Chris visit with someone on his own level to give him some perspective on the situation. 

“Maybe I should arrange a playdate for you and Zoë.” 

Chris sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Let me rephrase.” Zach’s expression hardened. “You’re going to have lunch with Zoë.” 

 

Chris had met Zoë several times, mostly at Zach’s clubs. Zoë was the charge of Ms. Jenkins, one of Papà’s business partners. 

“What’s wrong, baby? I’ve never seen you look so down.” 

“Papà’s wife has been in town since last Thursday.” 

Zoë nodded in understanding. “Ms. Jenkins’ husband lives with her, so I know how it feels.” 

“She lives with him?”

“Well, of course. They’re married.” 

Chris looked stunned, like the thought had never occurred to him. 

“Honey, you’re what the kids call a ‘side piece.’ You’ll be there until Daddy gets tired and trades you in for a younger model. This is not a permanent gig. If you’re lucky, you’ll find someone who wants you after Mr. Quinto’s done with you.” 

“How long have you been with Ms. Jenkins?” Chris asked softly. 

“Six months.” Zoë lifted her glass. “That’s a new record for me.” 

The food in Chris’s belly turned to lead. He and his Papà had been together for about four months. “Have you met any of Papà’s other . . . boys?” 

“You don’t want me to answer that question.”

Fuck.

“Look, let me give you a little tip: what you need to do is start putting away some of that _dinero_ Papi is giving you. That way, when he kicks you to the curb, you have something to fall back on.” 

“Papà doesn’t give me cash.” 

Zoë rolled her eyes. “Then you need to _ask_ him for some.” 

The idea never occurred to him, and Chris had no clue how he would even approach it. Then again, Papà hadn’t yet denied any request.

*

“Oh, Papà,” Chris groaned. He threw his head back as Zach fucked him slow and deep. 

“You like that?” Zach licked up the column of Chris’s neck. “I’m so good to you, huh?”

“Yes, Papà.” 

“Tell me how good I am.” Zach’s fingers closed around Chris’s straining erection. 

“So good, Papà, so good.” 

“Tell me. No one else but me.” 

“Only you, Papà. Only you.” 

Zach held him longer than usual after they finished. Chris had even started to doze when Zach got up. 

“You’re not staying?”

“Mi dispiace, but she wants me with her tonight.” Staring down at Chris, Zach brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. “She wants a baby.” 

Chris stared back, unsure what else to say. 

As he watched Zach dress, he realized he’d never before felt so much like the well-paid whore he was. 

“Papà,” he said lightly, “could I have 20 bucks?” 

Zach paused as he fastened his cufflinks. “For what?” 

The lie came more smoothly than Chris would have expected. “I thought I might order a pizza.” 

Pursing his lips, Zach reached for his wallet. From the wad of cash, he pulled out two twenties. “Wouldn’t want you to go hungry.” 

Zach held the bills out, but as Chris reached for them, Zach pulled them away. Catching on to the game, Chris tilted his chin up. As they kissed, Zach folded the bills into Chris’s hand. 

“Who loves you, bambino?” 

“Tu, Papà.” 

TBC

translations:

 _ant la tastatie_ you can not (Arabic)

 _Mi dispiace_ I’m sorry (Italian)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is love xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papà takes Chris away for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Naemi for making sure this all read smoothly. She also pointed out that Gal would be speaking Hebrew, not Arabic, but I think it's logical that Gal speaks many languages, so. (Hebrew also copy/pastes a checkmark, so I'm not sure how I'd get around that one.) 
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long, but I wanted it to be PERFECT. Hopefully now that the summer is over I'll be able to write faster. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who gave this fic such a great reception. I'm having such fun writing it.

Gal stayed for three weeks, and the day she left, Zach fucked Chris against the front door. 

“I want to take you away,” Zach breathed into his ear as he came, “just you and me for a few days.” 

“Yes,” Chris said on the end of a sigh. The idea sounded so good. Italian and English escaped his tongue, though it also could have been the feeling of Papà’s hot release splashing his insides. 

 

Two days later they packed their bags and headed to the airport to board Zach’s private jet. 

“Where are we going?” Chris asked excitedly. 

“It’s a surprise. Why don’t you come over here and sit by me?” 

As soon as Chris sat down, Zach began to unbuckle Chris’s belt. “Whoa.” Chris glanced meaningfully at the flight crew around them, but Zach frowned and slapped his hands away. 

This time, Zach pulled Chris’s cock completely out of his pants. 

“Mr. Quinto, we’re ready for take-off.” 

Chris’s face burned. Papà wasn’t usually so open with their sexual exploits, even if these people were still his employees. 

“Thank you, Jacque. Please take your seat.” Even with a dick in his hand, Zach still managed to retain his dignified aura. As the plane left the ground, Zach released him. 

“Get that hard.” 

Chris replaced Zach’s hand with his own. While he worked himself up, Zach opened a folder and began reviewing files and reports. He worked for an hour before turning his attention back to Chris. 

His dick was still hard—almost painfully so. 

Zach repacked his papers with meticulous care and slid them into his bag. A quick flick of his wrist straightened out the cuff of his sleeve. 

Jacque reappeared next to them. Chris had to force himself not to take his hand off his dick. 

“Scotch, neat,” said Zach. “Are you thirsty?” 

Chris’s cheeks burned hotter. Somehow, presumably due to the obscene amount of money Zach paid him, the flight attendant kept his eyes trained firmly on Zach’s face. 

“I could use a drink.” He could use an orgasm, too, but just now he’d take what he could get. 

“A bottle of water,” Zach said, effectively dismissing the flight attendant. 

Zach’s eyes flicked down to Chris’s straining cock like he was noticing it for the first time. “Are you tired, yet?”

“Si, Papà.” 

“Bravo ragazzo.” Zach reached down and squeezed Chris’s thigh. He kept his hand there until the flight attendant returned with their drinks. 

Taking a long sip of his whiskey, Zach said, “Go ahead and cum for me, bambino.” 

Chris needed no more encouragement. He’d been on the edge for what felt like an eternity. One hand twisted tightly into Papa’s, and Chris’s dick spurted over his fist. 

Once again, Jacque appeared, this time with a damp towel in his hands. 

“Thanks.” Chris cleaned up his mess; he wasn’t so embarrassed about being seen like this now. The flight attendant took the soiled towel and disappeared again. 

“You can put that away.” 

Chris did as he was told and twisted open his water bottle. The water felt deliciously cool sliding down his throat. 

“Do you feel better?” 

“Si, Papà.” 

“You’re always nervous when we fly. I figured that might take your mind off of it.” 

Admittedly, Chris hadn’t worried nearly so much about the take-off as usual. this was one of the times he didn’t give Papà nearly enough credit. “Are you going to tell me where we’re headed now?” 

The corner of Papà’s lip curled. “No.”

“Papà.” Chris’s voice was just this side of a whine. He slouched in his seat and laid his head on Zach’s shoulder. 

“You’re adorable, but the answer’s still no. Why don’t you close your eyes and try to get some sleep? I’ll wake you up when we get close.” 

 

Chris woke to the feeling of Papà’s fingertips on his face. 

“Sveglia il mio amore.” 

“‘m awake,” Chris grumbled. He struggled to sit up. The seat he was in had been lowered to a nearly horizontal level. “Are we there?”

“Take a look.” Zach pressed a kiss to Chris’s temple as the boy leaned over his lap. Deep blue ocean as far as he could see with an island growing larger as they drew closer. 

“Is that Hawaii?” 

“Kauai, more specifically. I own a vacation home on the beach down there.” 

Wide-eyed, Chris turned from the window. Two of Zach’s fingers pushed his jaw shut with a click. 

“You don’t want to catch flies, bambino.” 

*

A waiting limo took them from the airport to the house. The drive was short, but Chris’s gaze remained locked on the landscape outside. This was the first time Zach had taken him beyond the border of the continental U.S., so he allowed the boy to look his fill. There would be plenty of time for pleasures of the flesh later. 

Through the trees, the house loomed before them. Chris could hardly contain his excitement. He wriggled in his seat like a puppy. 

Zach led him up the path to a handsome villa partially hidden by trees. While it wasn’t as big as either of Zach’s two houses in Los Angeles, the location alone made it worth a small fortune. 

Chris stopped in the middle of the foyer, eyes taking in the bank of windows, the stairs that led to a loft above the open-hair floor plan. 

“There’s a balcony on the second floor, too,” Zach said as he followed the driving and their bags up their stairs. 

Chris scrambled to catch up. 

“Just leave those there,” Zach was saying as he flipped through a wad of bills. He handed several over, and the man thanked him with a nod. 

“If you need anything while you’re here, Mr. Quinto, please let me know.” 

Zach sent him away with a wave of his hand.

Chris stood at the glass doors that led to the balcony watching the waves in the distance. He started when Papà laid a hand against his waist. 

“Did you bring those new bathing suits of yours?”

“Yes, Papà.” 

“Good.” Papà rubbed his thumb in maddeningly slow circles. “I don’t want to see a single stitch of clothing on your body as long as we’re on this island.” 

Chris turned his head to protest, but Zach laid a finger against his lips. 

“Not a stitch. And that includes the silky little robe you like to prance around in. I saw you packing it.” 

Mind filtering through a hundred thoughts, Chris began to unbutton the cardigan he wore. It was too hot for it, anyway, but he was always cold when they travelled. He folded his clothes neatly and stacked them on the bench at the end of the bed. 

“Bene, Papà?”

“Meglio. Andiamo.” 

To Chris’s surprise, Zach led him back downstairs. They walked through the house out to a lush garden so thick with flowers Chris could smell them well before he saw them. The path spit them out onto the sandy beach as the ocean spread out endlessly across the horizon.

“Here you go, bambino. This is all for you.” 

Hesitant, Chris looked at Zach to be sure. At his Papà’s nod, Chris stripped off and dove into the waves. He resurfaced laughing and shaking water out of his eyes. Zach stood on the bank in his suit. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he looked relaxed. 

“Okay, come on. Out of there. You’ll have plenty of time to play in the water later. You need a bath, and I’m standing in the sand wearing a $2,000 pair of loafers.” 

Chris frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but Papà clicked his tongue, effectively shutting down the argument. He gathered his clothes and allowed himself to be led to the sumptuous bathroom on the first floor. 

A jacuzzi tub dominated the room. It was towards this that Zach moved and began to fill it with water. 

Unsure where he was wanted, Chris hovered near the sink. 

“Get over here,” Zach said, sounding both exasperated and amused. “Put your hand in there. Is it too hot?”

Chris splashed his hand in the water. “No, it’s okay.” 

“Get it.” 

The tub wasn’t full yet, but Chris did as he was told. The tub was big enough that he could stretch his long legs out completely without bending at the knees. 

Zach stepped back and removed his suit jacket. Everything he did was with exquisite precision. Chris had never seen him any other way than poised and controlled, even during sex. Zach removed his cufflinks and rolled his shirtsleeves to the elbows. Leaning in, he turned the taps off. “Comfortable?” 

Chris wiggled his toes in the water. “Si, Papà.”

“Bien.” Zach trailed his fingertips through the water. “Are you happy with me, Christopher?” 

Caught off guard by the depth of the question—in English, no less—Chris could only stare. 

“Bambino?” For a moment, Zach looked unguarded and fragile. The expression passed before Chris’s mind could register it. 

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Of course I’m happy with you.” 

Papà pursed his lips. 

 

After his bath, Papà dried Chris off and wrapped him in Zach’s soft grey robe. “I thought you said I wasn’t allowed any clothes.” 

Papà smoothed his hands down Chris’s lapels and kissed his nose. “This isn’t your robe. And you won’t be in it long. Are you hungry?” 

“No, Papà.” 

“Well, I am.” 

Papà led him back upstairs and onto the balcony. He stretched himself out across a couch that was built into the corner. “Vieni da me.” 

Obedient, Chris crawled over him. Papà hooked long fingers around his neck and reeled him in for a searing kiss. Steady hands parted the robe he wore, allowing it to pool around his hips. From out of nowhere, Papà produced a packet of lube. He pulled his dick out of his fly and Chris watched with hungry eyes as Zach slicked himself. 

Papà cupped Chris’s cheek. His thumb smeared against Chris’s plush lips. “Get on my cock.” 

The initial slide was tight, and Chris gritted his teeth against the burn. Papà added more lube as they rocked against one another. At the slicker, faster slide, Chris let out a low noise. He braced his hands against the soft fabric of Papà’s shirt. 

“If you cum on these pants,” Papà said as he slid his thumb into Chris’s mouth, “you’re licking it off and paying my dry cleaning bill.” 

Moaning, Chris bit down softly on the finger in his mouth. He concentrated on _not cumming_ while working Zach over the edge. With a growl, Papà surged up and knocked Chris onto his back, effectively flipping their positions. He took Chris’s ankles in each of his hands and used the leverage to fuck him deep. His jaw flexed, his balls tightened, and he came inside Chris’s body. 

“Sei cosi bravo, bambino. Cosi buono.” In a swift movement, Papà pulled out and swallowed Chris to the root. He came almost as soon as Zach’s lips touched his cock. 

“Papà, papà,” Chris whispered as he fisted his hands in Zach’s hair. 

Finally, Papà sat up, and his dark eyes burned with passion. “Give us a kiss.” 

Chris leaned forward. He could taste himself on Papà’s lips.

“I’m going to shower.” Papà tugged the robe out from under Chris. “No clothes.” 

Limbs akimbo, Chris let out a satiated sigh. His eyes tracked Papà’s movements across the balcony and into the villa. He never wanted to leave, especially with the Gal-shaped storm brewing back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meglio - better  
> andiamo - let’s go  
> vieni da me - come to me  
> sei cosi bravo, bambino - so good, baby  
> cosi buono - so good
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading. <3


	4. Chapter 4

Chris woke up alone, as he usually did. Papà was an early riser. Most of the time he’d let Chris sleep as late as he wanted, but he always made Chris come to bed with him.

Standing up, Chris stretched his arms over his head and lifted himself onto his toes. Through the open balcony doors he could see and hear the ocean. It brought a smile to his face. Being here was like a dream.

Without a robe to don (though he gave the blue silk one in the closet a forlorn look), Chris headed downstairs. He found Zach sitting at the kitchen table in front of his computer.

“Morning, Papà.”

Zach removed his glasses and tilted his head up for a kiss. “Good morning, bambino. Did you sleep well? There’s coffee over there for you. One cup. And don’t roll your eyes.”

Chris rolled his eyes anyway, for this was a daily occurrence. Papà often put restrictions on caffeine or alcohol, but Chris didn’t mind. It was for his own good. He poured himself a cup—black—and took a seat at the table. “I slept well. That bed is amazing.”

“Better than the one back home?”

“No way. That one is made of clouds and unicorn tears.”

Papà let out a laugh. “Gotta keep you happy, right? What are we doing today?”

“Going to the beach?” Chris made it sound more like a question in case Papà had other plans.

Papà made a noise of acknowledgement.

Taking a long sip of his coffee, Chris watched Papà carefully. Zach shuffled through a couple papers and sipped his own coffee. All the while he kept his eyes on the computer screen.

“Make sure you put on plenty of sunscreen. It’s going to hurt when I fuck you if your ass is sunburnt.”

Chris frowned. “Aren’t you coming?”

The keyboard stopped clicking, and Papà looked up. “Mi dispiace amore mio, but I have work to do.”

“On vacation? _Papà_.”

Zach sighed. “Give me one hour. I’ll come play with you, but then I have to get back to work.”

Of course, one hour quickly turned into two.

Chris tired of sitting on the beach alone, despite the canopy that had been set up to keep the sun off his delicate skin. He peeked into the kitchen, but Papà was on the phone speaking in rapid-fire Italian.

Wisely, Chris tip-toed up the stairs. He took a shower and climbed back into bed.

Sometime later, he woke to Papà’s hand stroking up and down his bare back.

Chris smiled into the pillow and stretched like a cat.

“Did you sleep well, mi amore?” The bed dipped, and Chris felt Papà’s lips follow the path his fingertips took.

“Yeah. Better if you were with me, though.” He looked over his shoulder and Papà caught his mouth in a kiss. Chris allowed his eyes to close as he lost himself in Papà’s lips. For now, he could pretend the threat of Mrs. Gal Gadot-Quinto was not looming over him.

“Are you hungry?”

Chris hummed. He rolled over and pulled Papà down for another kiss. He’d been waiting all day for this.

“I meant for real food.” Papà cupped his cheek. “Get dressed. I want to take you out.”

Sitting up in bed, Chris resisted the urge to pout. So much for the ‘no clothes’ rule.

At Papà’s insistence, Chris put on a pair of white trousers and a patterned shirt. Clothes felt wrong after spending so much time nude.

  
There was a car waiting for them downstairs. Zach helped himself to a glass of champagne and shockingly handed Chris one as well.

His surprise must have shown on his face because Papà smirked and said, “We’re on vacation. It’s a special occasion.”

Without comment, Chris took the glass and smiled into the rim.

The drive around the island gave them a view of palm trees and the mountains in the distance. The city of Kahului rose up around them. It felt like they were leaving their own private universe for civilization once again.

The pulled up to a city store front with a canopy that could have been anywhere in downtown Los Angeles. It felt surreal. Had it not been for the humidity that made his shirt stick to his back as soon as he got out of the car, Chris could have believed he was back home.

One hand on the small of Chris’s back, Zach propelled him into a dimly-lit restaurant. They were led to a quiet table in the corner near a bank of windows where they could see the tourists coming and going. “Chris.”

His gaze was torn at the sound of his real name.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Sorry, I just . . . Hawaii sort of reminds me of LA. All the—palm trees.” He smiled to convince Papà of his sincerity.

Papà brushed off the moment as he did with most things that didn’t require his concentration. He took a sip from the glass of water at his elbow and Chris was startled by what he saw—or rather, what he didn’t. Curious that Papà should require Chris to remain naked when he, too, laid bare the finger that was usually adorned with a gold band symbolizing his commitment to his wife. Chris had never seen Papà’s hand without his ring.

“I got you something,” said Papà. “I was going to wait to give it to you, but.” He pulled from the inside of his jacket—how was he wearing a jacket in this heat?—a long, slim box. “Go ahead.” He nudged the box forward.

Gingerly, Chris lifted the lid. Beneath the tissue paper lay a silver bracelet made of thick chain.

“There’s nine links,” Papà explained as he lifted the bracelet out of the box, “one for each month you’ve been mine.”

Silent, Chris held out his arm so Papà could fasten the bracelet around his wrist. Another mark of ownership. And suddenly, Chris wasn’t so sure he wanted to be possessed.

*

Chris was sunning himself on the beach listening to the gentle crashing of the waves when Papà’s voice startled him out of his doze.

“Christopher!” He never used that tone with Chris. “Get up. You need to pack. We’re leaving.”

Chris dragged himself to his feet, and the towel he’d been using to protect his sensitive parts from the sun fell to the ground.

They hadn’t even been in Hawaii a full week.

“Papà?” He received no answer as Papà left him on the sand, naked and confused.

  
Papà remained quiet on the long flight home. Chris tried to engage him in conversation, crawl into his lap, but each time he was rebuffed.

“Not now, bambino,” Papà said quietly. He spent most of the flight staring out the window and typing on his computer.

Eventually, Chris gave up mooning and retreated to the bunk in the back of the plane for a nap. He woke to the feeling of someone bushing their fingers over his cheek. Papà stood over him with the softest expression he’d worn all day.

“We’re going to land soon.”

Chris nodded through a yawn. He took his heat, and his heart leapt when Papà put a hand on his knee. But he stayed quiet, and so did Papà.

  
A car met them on the tarmac.

As much as he’d enjoyed being Hawaii, Chris couldn’t wait to sleep in his own bed again. But when the car stopped in front of Papà’s house, Chris’s heart slipped into his stomach. Papà leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Chris’s lips.

“I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Papà?” Chris said and received no answer.

As he watched the limo pull away, he wanted to cry. When he buried himself in the bed that smelled like Zach, he did.

*

“How many days has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“Four. It’s almost a week! Not even shopping is making me feel better at this point.”

“Have you tried calling him?” Zoë tilted her head and pursed her lips around her straw.

It was another beautiful day in paradise. They had nothing better to do but get drunk, yet Chris felt like he was the only person in the world.

“Yeah.” He sighed miserably. “Three . . . maybe four times. It goes straight to voicemail. I mean, he can’t just be gone, right? His . . . people have to be able to get ahold of him. He never does that with me.” Another cold trill of dread stabbed through his gut.

“He probably has another phone.” Zoë smiled sympathetically. Her eyes caught Chris’s wrist. “I like your bracelet,” she said, reaching out to touch the links.

“Thanks. Papà gave it to me when we were still in Hawaii.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like a parting gift.”

“No?” Surprised, Chris pulled his wrist back to examine the bracelet himself.

“Nah. When they’re kicking you to the curb they’ll give you the benefit of saying it to your face. If you’re lucky.”

“Have you ever been . . . “

“Dumped by one of my sugar daddies?” Zoë laughed. “Of course. That’s why you don’t go fucking around and falling in love.” She gave him a knowing look.

“What? I’m not—”

“You are so head over heels for that man I’m sure his _wife_ could tell, and she lives in Italy.”

Chris winced. “That obvious, huh?”

“Just . . . let me be real with you, Chris. One of these days his wife is going to tell him to make a choice. And he is going to choose her. He had her before you, and he will have her after you. He will _always_ choose his wife over you, Chris. And I think we both know that time is going to come sooner than later.”

Chris swallowed around the lump in his throat.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Q, who holds my hand while kicking me in the nuts. Seriously ilu don't ever change.

Chris was about halfway through _Pride and Prejudice_ when he heard the front door open and close. He looked up in confusion. Rosa, the housekeeper, had already left about an hour ago. It could be Max, the chef, but he was very early. Chris set his book down.

The sun room where he sat was on the other side of the house. He couldn’t hear anything from the foyer. As he stood up and headed into the house proper, he heard a voice call out, “Bambino?”

Chris took off through the house at a dead run, his bare feet slapping against the stone floor tiles.

Papà stood just inside the front door. He was dressed in a beige linen suit. When he saw Chris loping towards him, he opened his arms wide.

Chris crashed into Zach’s body with a small _oof_ that pushed him against the wall.

“I missed you so much,” Chris whispered against his neck.

“I missed you, too, bambino.” Zach cradled the back of Chris’s head in his hand and dug his fingers into the short hair at his nape. Chris moaned. It seemed like he’d been waiting so long for this that he’d never feel it again.

“Where _were_ you?”

Papà didn’t answer. Instead, he tipped Chris’s head back so he could kiss him full on the mouth. “Sei mio, huh, Bambino?”

Chris couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but he allowed Papà to turn him towards the wall. Papà kissed the back of Chris’s neck, stuck two fingers in his mouth.

“ _Papà_ ,” Chris groaned as the fingers left a wet trail down the side of his jaw.

“Si,” Papà growled as his teeth latched onto Chris’s earlobe. One hand snaked into the loose fabric of Chris’s shorts. Had he known Papà was coming home today, he would have worn something nice than a pair of ratty gym shorts.

Papà fucked him right there against the front door. Chris creamed his shorts with Papà’s hand around his throat.

When he was done, Papà pulled his shorts back up and patted his ass. “Go get cleaned up, and come back down here. I need to talk to you.”

Considering Papà had been gone for more days than Chris wanted to count, he was showered, dressed, and back in the lounge where Papà sat waiting with a drink in his hand in no time flat.

Chris headed for Zach’s lap, but the other man deflected him. “Have a seat, Bambino.” As he sat down, Chris’s chest filled with ice. This was it. This must be it. One last farewell fuck, and Papà was kicking him out. He might as well pack his bags.

“Bambino?”

Chris started.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

“Scusa,” Chris muttered.

Zach swirled the ice in his glass and took a drink. “These past few days I’ve been with Gal, but you probably already knew that.”

Chris’s grip tightened on the arms of the chair.

*

In a rare treat, Papà took Chris to the club. Normally, Papà didn’t like to mix business and pleasure.

Papà kept a tight hold on his hand as they slipped in the back door. Despite being surrounded by Zach’s “people,” (bouncers who were more than likely packing heat), Chris still felt a frisson of nerves. Coming in attached to the boss like this meant that everyone in the club was staring at him—at them. He allowed himself to be tugged along to the second-floor balcony where a VIP table was waiting for them away from the bone-rattling throb of the music.

All but two of the bouncers retreated. The ones who remained stood like sentinels at the top of the stairs to prevent any interlopers from interfering with Papà’s business. A waif-like waitress was admitted briefly to deliver a bourbon for Papà and a cosmo for Chris.

Realizing that but for the guards who could be statues, they were alone. Chris cracked a tentative smile. “Is this the calm before the storm?”

Papà’s dark eyebrows drew together. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“I just meant that it’s nice to have some quiet time before your meeting begins.”

“I don’t have a meeting.”

“Oh.” Chris took a sip of his cosmo.

“I just figured you would enjoy a night out. Things have been… rough.”

Chris resisted the urge to snort into his glass. ‘Rough’ was one way of describing the dramatic ups-and-downs he’d been subjected to over the last few weeks. If it wasn’t for the money and the gifts and Papà’s skills in bed, he would have been gone a long time ago.

Zach set his glass on the table. He leaned back and threw one arm over Chris’s shoulders like the self-assured business mogul he was. “Who loves you, Bambino?”

Chris wanted to play it coy, make him wait, but he wiggled on the seat like an excited puppy. Papa’s arm folded more tightly around him, and Chris felt like the belle of the ball. “You do, Papà.”

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Si, Papà.”

Zach squeezed Chris’s shoulder and leaned over to pick up his drink.

“Well, that’s…. new.”

Chris followed Papà’s line of sight, and his heart sank. He was staring at one of the new boys.

Zoë’s words echoed in Chris’s head. _I’ve been with her six months. That’s a new record._

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” Chris said, desperate to reclaim Papà’s attention.

Papà’s eyes roamed up and down Chris’s body. His lips quirked into a smile. He looked hungry. “Really?”

“No.” Chris flushed. “But I can go take them off, if you want.”

“No, li rimuoverò più tardi,” Papà said as he squeezed Chris’s thigh.

“I have no idea what you just said, but yes.”

Papà took him by the chin. “Si, Papa.” He nodded, directing Chris to repeat him.

“Si, Papà.” It was the first Italian phrase Zach had ever taught him.

Papà kissed him gently before pulling away. “Relax, Bambino.”

He motioned one of the guards over to him. They spoke too quietly for Chris to hear.

The man disappeared down the stairs and returned a few minutes later with the boy they had seen dancing. He was tall with golden skin, a halo of dark curls, and a blinding smile. He looked like a sinuous jungle cat in gold spandex shorts. As he drew closer, Chris could see he was covered in gold glitter. Chris hated glitter. He only let them put it on him once because it stuck to his hands and everything else he touched.

“Look at you,” Papà purred. He was practically licking his lips with desire. “Come here. Why don’t you take a seat next to Chris. What’s your name?”

Sandwiched between Zach and who he hoped was not his replacement, Chris began to feel uncomfortably warm.

“Miles.” The man tipped his head back to shake the curls off his face.

Papà licked his lips. Chris choked.

Papà’s attention snapped back to him. “Bambino?” He thumped Chris on the back. “Stai bene?”

“I’m fine,” Chris croaked. He reached for his drink. “Just swallowed the wrong way.”

“Can we get some water?” Zach shouted. “Porca miseria!”  
  
A moment later, one of the scantily-clad servers jogged up the stairs.

Zach rubbed Chris’s back as he took the glass, and if he wasn’t so embarrassed, he would grinned smugly in Miles’s stupid perfect face.

“I’m okay,” Chris repeated.

Only once Zach was positive that Chris really was okay did he turn his attention back to Miles. But his hand remained on Chris’s back. “I’m Mr. Quinto, Miles,” he said, and Chris felt a shiver roll down his spine. “And this is Chris.”

As he was introduced, Zach’s hand slid upward to cup the back of Chris’s neck.

“I know who you are,” the dancer replied. “Well, you, Mr. Quinto. Not him.”

Instinctively, Chris’s hackles lifted. He was more to Papà than just a thing… an accessory. Wasn’t he?

“Oh, do you, now?” Zach purred. “Just what do you know about me, Miles?”  
  
Chris rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to sit here and listen to this. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He untangled himself from Papà, but the older man hardly spared him a glance.

*

Chris woke up alone in the guest bedroom. He’d declined Papà’s offer to join them, but he couldn’t stand the thought of watching someone else touch Papà… kiss him. No matter how much Papà tried to convince him—and ply him with alcohol—Chris headed directly for the guest room when they got home, leaving Miles to take his place in Zach’s bed.

He opened the door and stepped into the hall on light feet. The last thing he wanted to do was run into _Miles_.

The door to Papa’s bedroom was shut. Chris shivered in disgust.

Downstairs, he fixed himself a cup of coffee and walked out onto the back deck. Maybe Zoë was right. Maybe it was time for Chris to move on. Zach would never be completely his.

Chris sat drinking his coffee and ruminating until the french doors opened behind him.

“You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Chris said without turning around. “Where’s Miles?”

“He left several hours ago,” Zach said like it was obvious. “I missed you last night.”

 _I_ , not _we_.

Chris remained silent, and Papà continued. “So you didn’t sleep well?”

“No,” Chris replied sourly.

“Il mio bambino ha fatto un brutto sogno?” Zach nuzzled into his cheek, but Chris pushed him away.

“ _English_ , Papà.”

“Si, Bambino.” Zach took a seat next to him. “How long are you going to be mad about this, hey? Until I take you out for a night alone, hmm? Or maybe let you spend some quality time with my credit card?”

“I want to spend quality time with _you_!” said Chris before he could reign himself in.

Zach’s expression went soft, then pensive. He pressed his lips together. Saying nothing, he stood up from the table and walked out of the room.

His coffee sat on the table, cold and forgotten.

*

Papà left and stayed gone for most of the day.

Chris dragged himself around the house from empty room to empty room. He spent some time in the pool, took a shower, and buried himself in Papà’s—their—bed with a good book.

When Papa came home, he had a drawn, desperate look in his eyes.

“What are you reading?” he asked as he began unknotting his tie.

Chris held up his book.

“Dostoyevsky,” Zach said with a nod. “No Machiavelli or Alighieri? I’ve got everything in the library.”

“I wasn’t in the mood for Italian.”

Zach chuckled. Shirtless, crawled up the bed towards Chris. One of his hands eased the book out of Chris’s grasp.

“Zach,” he said in a low voice. He held on tighter.

“Bambino,” Zach countered, “earlier you were saying how much you want to spend time with me.”

“And then you left me alone. Like you always do, particularly when I need you.”

“I’m here, now.” This time, when he tried to take the book, Chris let it go. “There, yeah?” Papà’s words degenerated into soft Italian, as they often did in bed. It was almost like the blood that filled his dick sucked the English out of his head.

He made love to Chris slowly and steadily. He held him tight as he came.

Chris was just beginning to fall asleep when Papà’s words startled him.

“Gal’s pregnant.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh, folks.

Arms full of shopping bags, Chris was barred from entry into the house by a line of men carrying boxes. He slipped into a gap between them, but steps into the foyer he pulled up short in front of Mrs. Zachary Quinto herself.

“Can I help you?” she asked in heavily-accented English.

“Uh, no?” Chris said slowly. “I live here.” He started to walk around her, but one red-clawed hand shot out to stop him.

“No, you do not.”

Chris stared at her like she’d just grown a second head. “Papà!” he called into the cavernous house. “Papà!”

“You would please keep your voice down. My husband not home right now.”

“Husband,” Chris scoffed. “Yeah.”

Gal’s eyebrows narrowed. “You go now. Or I call polizia.”

Grinding his teeth, Chris pushed his way back through the movers.

*

Chris got a room at the Beverly Hills Hotel and tried calling Papà several times to no avail. He paced the room, laid on the bed, looked out the window. Washed his hands, spied out the peephole. Flipped through the channels, turned the TV off.

His phone beeped, and Chris dove for it, but it was only an email with a Ray-Ban coupon.

Chris threw his phone on the bed.

 _Fuck_.

He didn’t need a new pair of sunglasses. He needed _Zach_.

He picked up his phone again and called Zoë. Maybe she’d know what to do.

Her words, however, made Chris’s blood run cold. “Get out while you can, lover boy. She’s pregnant, and it’s time for them to play happy family.”

Chris hung up the phone and paced the room. He’d used Papà’s credit card to get it; how long could he stay here before Papà cancelled the card and he was out on the street? He could probably get his old job back at the club. He’d be no better than Miles. They’d both fucked Zach only to continue shaking their asses for pennies while the club’s owner and his wife dined on caviar and Dom.

Trying to quell his rising panic, Chris emptied his shopping bags onto the bed. Altogether he had three shirts, a pair of jeans, two scarves, and a new watch. The watch he could pawn for a couple hundred if he was really desperate, and even without clean underwear the clothes would get him through a few days. But the rest of his stuff—the cash Papà had given him, _Christ_ —was all back at the house.

Not counting Papà’s credit card, the money in his wallet added up to $263 dollars and a handful of change. He could live on that long enough to find a job. He’d been in worse straits than this before.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Chris let out a sigh. All these months and he’d—Chris’s eyes zeroed in on the bracelet around his wrist.

_One link for every month you’ve been mine._

Now, Chris was no expert in jewelry, but knowing Papà—Zach—as he did, the bracelet had to be worth a couple thousand _at least._ Okay. All was not lost.

Chris sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. He’d known the arrangement wouldn’t last forever. Even if he never got back into the house to retrieve his cash, he was still at least a couple thousand ahead.

To steady his nerves, Chris soaked in the bathtub for a long time and ordered room service. At least he could hide out here until the money ran out.

Hardly five minutes later there was a knock on the door. Chris hadn’t even changed out of his towel yet. An exclamation of surprise on his tongue, he opened his door.

It was not room service.

Leaning against the doorjamb looking for all the world like he owned this building, too, was Papà. He lifted his dark gaze up to meet Chris’s eyes. The corner of his lips lifted in a smile.

“Well hello, Bambino. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Too stunned to speak, Chris shuffled backwards to allow Zach into the room.

The door shut behind them with an audible _click_. They stood in silence for several long moments.

Chris’s hair dripped onto his bare shoulders, and his hand tightened on the knot holding his towel around his waist. He felt like a bug pinned under the scrutiny of Zach’s eyes.

“How did you find me?” asked Chris finally, and the spell was broken.

Zach crossed the room to peer out the window. “You left me six voicemails, and considering it was my credit card you used to check in, they were more than accommodating when I asked for your room number.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to upset you. She’ll be gone in a few days, so you just stay here and relax. Give yourself a spa day or two, go to the gym, use the pool. This will all blow over, and then I’ll bring you back home.”

Chris stared at him.

“ _Bambino_.” Sighing, Zach walked back over and took him by the upper arms. “You’re clearly upset. Perhaps you should just lie down, huh?” He leaned in to place a soft kiss against Chris’s mouth.

Chris allowed it for a moment and then began biting at Papà’s lips. He dropped his towel and tore at the shirt the was probably worth more than the entire hotel room. Zach growled in response. He pushed Chris to the floor and opened the placket in his trousers. Chris’s knees were raw when they finished, but he couldn’t care less.

Zach straightened his clothing and knotted the towel back around Chris’s hips. “I’m meeting Gal for dinner, but I’ll be back in the morning, sì?” He pressed a couple bills into Chris’s hands-hundreds, from the look of it. “Who loves you, Bambino?”

“You do, Papà.”

*

Papà did not come back in the morning or the next day, so Chris followed his advice and booked a full retinue of services at the hotel’s spa.

The man giving him a massage was a tall, gorgeous Puerto Rican named Diego.

“So, are you staying with us for business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure,” Chris drawled as the masseuse dug into a particularly deep knot in his shoulder.

“Oh? So you are on vacation?”

“Something like that.”

“Where are you from?”

“Silver Lake.”

“Is not that only half hour away?”

Chris hummed in response.

“A staycation, then?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“May I ask what you do for a living?”   
  
Chris through for a moment about how to answer. Finally, he settled on “My Daddy’s rich,” which earned him a laugh from Diego.

“You are here to spend all of Daddy money, then? I like this. Probably a better use than watching him drink to death.”

Chris grunted a noise of reply.

The masseuse lifted the blanket, and Chris obediently rolled onto his back. He sighed as talented hands began to rub his neck and shoulders. Chris let out a sigh of pleasure. He should have done this a while ago.

Between wondering if Zach’s wife was going to “drop in” and waiting for for Zach himself to foist some attention on him, Chris had neglected his own wellbeing in a bad way.

“That feels so good,” Chris groaned.

“I am good with my hands.”

But as said hands began to wander down Chris’s chest towards his very, very unprotected manhood, Chris’s eyes flew open.

“Uhhh…”

The hand was about to close around his dick when Chris shot up on the massage table and grabbed Diego’s wrist. “What are you doing?” he shrieked.

“Well, I was _going_ to give you a happy ending,” the masseuse said like Chris was a small child.

“I’m not paying you for that!” was the first thing that came out of Chris’s mouth.

“Oh, honey, this one’s on the house.”

“I don’t—no!—I don’t want you to touch me!”

Frowning, Diego pulled his hand away. “You said you have a rich daddy.”

“ _So_?”

“So, that is code for hand job at the end of massage.”   
  
Chris gaped at him. He’d heard about things like this but never imagined stepping into it accidentally. “I meant that I have a _sugar daddy_.”

Diego had the dignity to look chagrined. “I will just… let you get dressed. I will have water waiting for you.” He left without another word.

Chris stared at the door until he was sure it was closed. His heart was hammering in his chest. Part of him couldn’t believe that he’d nearly been molested by a stranger, and the other part of him regretted that he’d stopped the masseuse. Objectively, he knew he was attractive, but he’d been under Papà’s thumb for so long that he’d stopped looking at other men altogether. Even Miles, Chris realized as he looked back on the situation, had been attracted to him. Miles’s disappointment at Chris’s departure that night had been obvious, but Chris chose to ignore it. Maybe things would be different now if Chris had agreed to spend the night with both Zach and Miles. Maybe that decision drove Zach back into Gal’s arms. Chris hadn’t seen her, anyway, so he had no way of knowing if it had been her or Zach who decided that she would move into the house.

With a heavy heart, Chris reached for his clothes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read, kudosed, commented on, or talked to me about this fic. I really, really like how it turned out, and more than that, I appreciate you reading it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <33

Chris grew more comfortable at the hotel as the weeks went by. Papà’s money kept flowing, and Chris made some new friends. Papà himself came by a couple times for dinner. Their conversation remained superficial, but for once, Chris felt like the balance of power had shifted—they were on his turf now.

He was heading back to his room from the gym when Papà surprised him by waiting in the hall with a bouquet of flowers.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Chris said as Papà pulled him in for a kiss. “I just got done working out, so you’ll need to give me a few.”

Papà gave him an uncharacteristically easy smile and made no move to join him. “Take your time,” he said, “I’ll be right here.”

Chris shut himself in the bathroom, and he didn’t come out until he felt like his appearance would meet Papà’s ridiculously high standards. Only he wasn’t doing it for Zach but for himself. If anything, he wanted to show Papà that in the last few weeks he’d become his own man, and he was proud of that person.

Papà stood up as Chris exited the bathroom.

“Wow,” he said.

Chris turned to show off the tailored lines of his new suit. Papà had paid for it, of course, even if he hadn’t yet seen the charge on his credit card. He had always wanted Chris in unbuttoned shirts and tight jeans, but Chris was tired of being treated like a piece of meat. He wanted Papà to see him as an equal, and he knew that to do that he had to look the part.

“Yeah?” The corner of Chris’s mouth lifted in a smile. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was desperately seeking Papà’s approval.

“You look incredible.” Papà reeled him in for another kiss. “Are you ready? We have reservations, and there’s something important I want to talk to you about.”

Chris’s stomach somersaulted but he tried not to let the anxiety show on his face.

Zach took him by the hand and led him downstairs to a waiting limo. Chris’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Usually, Papà would just hire a town car, so this really was a special occasion.

Papà waited next to the driver for Chris to climb into the car before joining him. He reached for the open, chilled bottle and poured them each a glass of champagne.

Chris took his with a look of curiosity. A _very_ special occasion if Papà was letting him drink. But when Chris asked, he was granted an enigmatic “I’ll tell you soon.”

In the meantime, Papà pulled him close with a warm hand upon Chris’s thigh. They were close enough that Chris could smell his cologne. It was a heady scent that tightened things low in his belly. Chris had the sudden desire to rub his face against Zach’s neck to get more of the delicious smell in his nose. Yet he restrained himself. Regardless of their… situation, Zach had a wife and a child at home. Chris couldn’t bring himself to be the one to cross that line. He finished his champagne, but Zach did not offer him another glass.

“I want you lucid tonight,” he said with that same smile.

Hesitant, Chris smiled back. Lucid for _what_ , he couldn’t help but wonder.

The car pulled up to a restaurant downtown. Chris was whisked inside past the chauffeur, the maitre’d, and a flurry of waitstaff. They were seated at a corner table in a dim, private section of the restaurant. Chris couldn’t help but notice there were no other patrons within earshot, despite the restaurant being relatively busy.

The server poured them each a glass of champagne, took their order, and then she was gone.

“So,” Zach said expectantly like he was waiting for Chris to start the conversation, but Chris just stared back at him placidly. “I have something important I want to talk to you about, Bambino.” For the first time since Chris had met him, Zach looked nervous.

“Okay,” Chris drawled. He took a long swallow of champagne. Papà really had kept him too sober for this.

“Have you been enjoying your time at the Beverly Hills Hotel?”

Was this seriously what Zach wanted to talk to him about? Was he going to suggest Chris stay there permanently? Or worse—find a new home?

“It’s…good,” said Chris, trying not to sound like he liked it too much, lest Papà get the wrong idea.

“Bambino.” Zach reached across the table to take Chris’s hands. “I brought you here tonight because I want you to move back in. I want you to come home.”

A thousand different thoughts exploded in Chris’s head. As much as he wanted to go back to Papà’s (and retrieve his cash), he didn’t want to contend with Mrs. Quinto, and he was also rathe reluctant to give up the freedom of his room at the hotel.

“What about…” Chris had to lick his lips twice before he could get his mouth around the words. “What about Gal?”

Zach’s face grew serious. His grip tightened around Chris’s wrists. “The baby isn’t mine,” he ground out. “I went to the doctor with Gal, and based on how far along she is, the baby was conceived while we were in Hawaii.”

Chris sucked air through his bottom teeth.

“When I confronted her about it, she broke down and admitted that she’s been cheating on me. I’ve had a paternity test done. The baby is _molto_ not mine. I filed for divorce. She should be back in Italy by now. Mi dispiace, Bambino, but that’s why I left you alone for so long. I’ve been dealing with this _accidenti_. May you forgive me?” He glanced down at Chris’s wrists and noticed that he was still wearing the bracelet Zach had given him. His thumb caressed one of the smooth links. “You’re still wearing this. You know, it cost me twelve thousand.” Papà spread Chris’s fingers open and rubbed his thumbs over Chris’s palms.

Chris nearly choked on his spit. He’d underestimated its value by _ten thousand dollars_.

With Papà staring plaintively into his eyes, Chris felt himself falling under his spell again. Gently, Chris tugged his hands out of Papà’s grip and twisted them in his lap. “What about Miles?”

“Miles?” Zach’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“That dancer? That you brought home?”

“What about him?”

“Are you going to bring him home again? Or someone like him?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I never wanted you to. That’s why I spent the night in the guest room.” He sat back in his chair and stared at Zach, waiting for his reply.

“I thought you were into it. Honestly.”

Chris continued to stare at him. “Was it my silence or my disappearance that led you to believe I was so into it?”

“I’m sorry, Chris.” It was the first sincere apology he’d ever gotten from Zach.

“If it happens again, I’m gone.”

Zach folded his hands together and leaned across the table. “What makes you think you’re so much more special than anyone else who wants my attention? How are you any different from Gal or Miles or any of the dancers in my clubs?”

A smug smile on his face, Chris straightened his back. He’d been waiting for this question. “Because you want me.”

Zach held his eyes for a long time before finally breaking the stare. “Will you come home?”

*

Chris woke later than usual. He’d had a long night, and the extra sleep felt good. Gathering his long limbs, he stood up and stretched.

He left the room in favor of an early morning workout, after which he took a long, hot shower. His muscles ached in protest, but it was a good ache that he took pleasure in. Having a routine felt good, and being happy felt even better.

It had been a long road to this point, but every day felt better.

Chris picked out a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of slacks. He had some business to take care of, so it wouldn’t be a jeans and t-shirt kind of day. Since it was hot and dry outside, he elected to forego the tie. His new Italian loafers would convey that he meant business. That and the watch on his wrist.

He glanced down at the new timepiece. It was ringed in diamonds with a dark grey faceplate that reduced glare. Such a nice upgrade from the link bracelet he wore for months. People took him seriously now.

Running a quick hand through his hair to give it an “effortlessly tousled” sort of look, Chris winked at his reflection and deemed himself ready.

Downstairs, the man waiting for him by the door looked every inch Chris’s partner. He never failed to put butterflies in Chris’s stomach.

Sliding his shades over light-sensitive blue eyes, Chris gave him an appreciative once-over. “Well, good morning.”

“Good morning, Bambino.”

Chris accepted a kiss and a cup of coffee from Papà. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but there were worse things he could do than stay in a relationship for the money.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading xx
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr @moitmiller if you want to chat!


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